Regretful Ocean
by Erika Skyfire
Summary: Depressing. Angsty. Dark. Sorry. Rated for all of those unhappy things. A redheaded figure stands by the ocean...


Disclaimer: The depressing part is mine! The people and stuff is JKRs! Please don't sue!   
Author's Note: I saw a picture. You can probably figure out which one it is on Fate. I had to write about it. This is a STANDALONE, the only thing I actually write halfway decently. Thanks. Read and review please. 

**_~*Regretful Ocean*~ _**

Crashing waves break over the jagged rocks. The sound of the ocean lulls me. The storm overhead is dark and thundering, changing the color of the water from soft blues to dark turquoise. Shadows play over the rocks, hiding their small coves. The scene fits my mood perfectly, desolation and despair creeping up like shadows on my black cloak. 

I stand as still as possible, feeling the moment drag on for a never ending moment. The slow rushing of the water, the crashing waves, the sad color of the sea, the harshness of the rocks. The rushing, the crashing, the sadness, the harshness. 

I cling to my robe, the only thing covering me besides my thinly strapped black dress. My red hair is pulled back in a loose knot at the nape of my neck, exposing my neck to the bursting winds of cold air from the shoreline. I shiver and resist the urge to sink to the rocks and curl up in a ball. I will stand, I will be strong, I will resist. 

I knew. There wasn't any other way. A girl possessed by a memory was to know something, of course, why did she allow this? She should have warned someone. But that was a part of the drawbacks of once being possessed; no one knew that you were telling the truth. I wasn't about to arouse questions of doubt. 

I wanted to scream the answer to everyone. Scream at the unfairness of the doubt, the unfairness of the answer, the unfairness of my destiny to love the lost. I wanted to reach for the moon and only was able to cup moonbeams in my hand. Touch it from so far away, but it unaware. 

I shiver as a particularly cold gust blows against my robe. I close my eyes and try to listen to the ocean, listen to it rush, crash, cry, and retreat away again. The ocean has always been a friend. I'm the only one who can hear - or understand - it's sorrow. 

My relationship was rushed by fevered kisses in empty hallways after curfew. Occasionally a moonlit stroll around the lake with him tugging at my hand for me to hurry, when I wanted to stop and savor the moment. But I allowed the tugging, the insistence, the rush. I let him for fear of him slipping away to someplace I couldn't reach. Even if I knew he would in a different way altogether. 

My feet begin to ache after being in dress shoes for the past few hours. They protest against the jagged rocks which my heels dig into, giving no support from the stony ground. But I don't fidget, I don't move, I only shiver. 

It ended abruptly. Like a crash of water against the rocks, he burst out at me, accusing me with being detached despite my pleas of loving him. I was so content, enjoying his time even with his hastening pace. But I feared and hesitated, and he doubted my love when I appeared so untrusting. 

He showered me in cold water while I was the warm rock. Slowly, I fell numb. 

Numb with only scalding pain and prickling jealousy at all the girls he glanced at again. Numb with only freezing confusion and slippery regret when he'd glance at me with contempt in his eyes. As if I'd done something wrong. Something I never knew I committed. 

Slowly, I started focusing on my books and feet and wand and anything but him. And slowly, I stopped feeling his contempt filled eyes on my back, and saw no more of his glances at other girls. The lack of him was welcome, but empty. Like all the shells on this shore. Empty and devoid of anything but the sadness. 

I stopped keeping tabs on him. I didn't know where he was. I tried not to care, but I knew, I knew it would be soon ... 

I weaken slightly, feeling my robe slip off my shoulders and expose my skin to more cold air. I don't care, I can hardly see from the tears slipping from my eyes. My throat tightens and I swallow, trying to regain my composure. Tears slip down my cheeks. 

I knew that Tom would come. I knew Tom would attempt to murder him. I knew he would fail. I was comforted that Tom would die. But I also knew the price of his death. And I regret that more than anything else. I knew there was no way around it, there were no other spells or charms, nothing that would help. I had tried to research it once, until I realized I already knew it was hopeless. And I regret never mentioning it. 

But regret never gets us anywhere. 

When Tom was approaching, I felt it. I turned to look for him and saw he was already looking at me. I stared at him a long moment before looking back down at my books, and walking in the opposite direction. I didn't want to slash open old scars. 

"_Ginny._" 

"_Harry,_" I had replied. 

"_What are you hiding?_" 

I had just looked at him with my eyes filled with tears. He frowned, but before he could ask again, I said something that must have caught him off guard, from his expression, and surprised myself as well. 

"_I've never stopped loving you and never will._" 

Once I realized what I'd said after staring at him in the eye with such a solemn look, my eyes widened and I swiveled around, prepared to make my retreat. 

He grabbed me by the arm and I halted, biting my lip and squeezing my eyes shut, spilling tears onto my books. I didn't want to see his expression, see his emerald eyes with that contempt again, feel the sadness of losing him all over again. But he tugged my chin up with a finger and asked me to open my eyes. I reluctantly did so and felt my heart break. 

His eyes reflected regret. 

Of all the things for him to regret, to torture himself over, he also placed our lost relationship with them. With losing his parents, losing his godfather, losing his friends and teachers, he placed losing me with them. I felt my heart bleed with grief while warm with love. My emotions were torn in two, which left me leaning up for a bittersweet kiss. 

Then break away and run. 

I found the coldest corner of the castle to sob to myself, regret and shame of not helping the battle on the grounds, of letting the world around me crumble while doing nothing but crying. Letting him die without my help, with his doubts clouding his awareness as Tom managed to send an irreversible curse of poison into his bloodstream, yet become victorious as Tom fell. But to fall also as the poison quickly ran its course through his blood. 

I had crawled away from my corner, I had found a window, I had glanced out of it right as Tom fell. Then a few moments later of him slowly calming from his quick breaths he fell as well. 

I just watched and cried. 

And now, after his funeral and me all dressed up in black, I cry at the seaside. The world is so harsh that I can't bear to feel the scraping and burning of the world without him. Losing him has replaced my warm heart with something black and cold that bleeds tears that course down my cheeks. 

The loneliness makes me shiver more then the cool air. 

I look down, over the edge. The rushing, the crashing, the sadness, the harshness. It's all there. An animated version of all my pain. The color shifts from its blues and greens, the colors of my never ending silent tears. I look up at the murky clouds and see my heart of blacks and grays, billowing in agitation. But ... 

But I see his face reflecting in the sky. Harry smiling, his emerald eyes light and sparkling, happier than I ever saw him here. I slowly smile. I hold out my arms, my robe held out behind me like wings ... I take the few steps to the edge... I jump off the side ... 

And I fly to him. 

**_~*Fin*~ _**


End file.
